


earl grey

by nocturnes



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Financial Issues, M/M, RPF, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 14:05:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturnes/pseuds/nocturnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tea is one of the two things that can make Kyungsoo calm down enough to talk. Yixing is the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	earl grey

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. For the prompt 'tea' for fluff bingo!
> 
> 2\. All of my fluffy, domestic, affectionate feels for this ship, jesus.

Kyungsoo wrenches the key in the lock to his apartment, balancing a paper bag of fresh groceries in the crook of his other arm. The lock is always sticky. He sighs in relief once it opens, toeing off his shoes and setting down the groceries on the floor near the fridge as he walks into the kitchen two steps later. The place is tiny, but it’s home.  
  
“Yixing?” he calls out. “Are you home? I’m making—”  
  
He pauses, reaching for the paper out of place in the small space next to the sink that serves as all he has for a counter.  
  
\-- _Kai called me about a possible gig next weekend! Practicing late today, don’t know when I’ll be home. Don’t worry about waiting up._ \--  
  
Kyungsoo flips the paper over, looking for anything else, and finds only the glaring red of the urgent cut off notice from the power company that he had left out this morning. Yixing probably didn’t even read it. He’ll have to call again tomorrow. Maybe ask Joonmyun about picking up another shift at the store, too.  
  
“Fuck,” he says. Just once, under his breath, because he can’t afford more. The hum of the fridge rings in his ears. He scrubs a hand over his eyes, then squints at the paper grocery bag through the after-colour clouding his vision. Oysters had been a mistake. His hands are shaking.  
  
He reaches for the bag again and unloads the ingredients for his soondubu jjigae onto the counter. Yixing won’t be home to taste it fresh, but right now he needs the distraction.  
  
\--  
  
Kyungsoo stands in front of the kitchen sink, twisting his hands together as he watches steam waft up from the mouth of the electric teakettle. He has some earl grey left, the kind that Yixing had brought back for him from one of the foreign stores in Itaewon a few months ago, and today has been the kind of day that begs for it.  
  
He likes tea because when he holds the mug, still so hot it hurts the palms of his hands, he can pretend for just a little while that forgetting is an option available to him. For Yixing it seems to come so easily, but Kyungsoo has never really understood that. He fixates more than he would ever readily admit out loud to anyone.  
  
“Thank you for the jjigae yesterday,” Yixing says, and Kyungsoo has to fight the way his back stiffens. Yixing’s presence hooks into him heavy, begging him to turn his head, but he resists. He hadn’t heard him enter the room. “I had some for lunch. So much better than more cup noodles.”  
  
“Mmm,” Kyungsoo hums, staring at the orange light at the base of the teakettle. He taps his fingernails against the cheap painted-over wood in front of the sink basin. After this, they’ll be out of tea, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to convince himself to buy more. “Good.”  
  
“Kai stole Kris’ face lotion today. Brought it to the studio and everything. They were having some stupid fight again, and Kris barged in halfway through practice today with his hair still tied up away from his forehead. He looked ridiculous. You should have seen his face.”  
  
“Yeah,” Kyungsoo says, reaching for the mugs as soon as the teakettle clicks off. The light above the sink flickers, and he freezes for a second before sighing with relief when it comes back on strong. He really needs to make that call. “Tea?”  
  
“Yeah,” Yixing says. “Okay. Are you—”  
  
“Fine.” Kyungsoo drapes a teabag carefully into each mug. His favourite part is watching the stain of the tea bloom outwards into the water, but it only ever lasts a few seconds. “Milk?”  
  
“Whatever you’re having.” Yixing comes up to wrap his arms around Kyungsoo’s waist from behind. His hand brushes across his stomach through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and Kyungsoo does his best to resist arching into it. “Don’t think I won’t tickle you,” Yixing says, hot into his ear. His hair is still damp from the shower he had taken when he got home. Kyungsoo can smell the mint shampoo that he likes so much, fresh and clean, and it’s comforting at the same time as it makes his head feel like it’s spinning. “Because I will.”  
  
“I—” Kyungsoo says, keeping his head lowered. His cheeks are hot.  
  
Yixing pulls his hands back, drifting across Kyungsoo’s stomach and over to his sides, where he knows Kyungsoo is ticklish. Kyungsoo tries to squirm away, but Yixing doesn’t let him, fingers dancing over his ribs. His breath feels warm on Kyungsoo’s neck still, and it’s too much all at once. The sound that leaves Kyungsoo’s throat is somewhere halfway between a laugh and a reluctant sob, and he’s stuck thinking that he kind of wants to both laugh and cry at that, too.  
  
“Okay,” Yixing says, slowly. His hands drift over to Kyungsoo’s hips, squeezing lightly before they lift away. “Tea, couch, now.”  
  
Tea doubles, also, as one of only two things that can make Kyungsoo talk about how he is really feeling. Fortunately for the state of their relationship, Kyungsoo thinks, resigning himself as he throws each of the teabags into the garbage under the sink, Yixing is the other.  
  
\--  
  
Kyungsoo nurses his tea in his hands, savouring the heat as he holds the mug up close to his face and breathes in the steam. Yixing pokes him in the stomach with his toe, his socked feet sitting on Kyungsoo’s lap. Before they had sat down, he had pulled his hair back into the sort of messy ponytail that always makes Kyungsoo want to tangle his hands in it and kiss him.  
  
“You’re getting quiet again,” Yixing says, like it’s something Kyungsoo isn’t already painfully aware of. “If I did something—”  
  
“No,” Kyungsoo cut in quickly, and it still comes out too soft. He stares down at the discoloured ring around the inside of his mug. “It’s not… no, you didn’t.”  
  
Yixing sighs, and Kyungsoo can hear the clink of his cup as he sets it down on the coffee table. “I’m not a mind-reader, Kyungsoo. You’re going to have to tell me. I’ll wait if I have to.”  
  
Kyungsoo knows how patient Yixing is, and the knowledge that he really would wait all night, probably, is enough to almost make smile nervously around the rim of his mug. “Just worrying too much,” he says, compromising.  
  
“Mmm,” Yixing prompts. He moves his feet and shuffles across to get closer, shifting around until he’s sitting sideways next to Kyungsoo with his knees bent up in front of him on the couch. His hand moves up to rest on Kyungsoo’s thigh, hot through his pyjama pants and terribly distracting in a way Kyungsoo both welcomes and wishes away. “About what?”  
  
“I don’t want to bother you,” Kyungsoo says, mumbling into his cup. Yixing gently pries his fingers away from the ceramic and sets it down on the table next to his.  
  
“I asked you,” Yixing points out, reaching up with his other hand to peel Kyungsoo’s hand away from where it has come up to shield the side of his face. “And you’re never bothering me. So talk to me. What are you thinking right now?”  
  
“We got another notice from the power company,” Kyungsoo says, in lieu of what he wants to say. “I need to call.”  
  
“I’ll call,” Yixing says, running his thumb along Kyungsoo’s wrist. “I know you hate it. Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
Kyungsoo glances up, finally, and lets himself look. He can’t even remember the last time he let himself take Yixing in just like this, on any one of countless other nights like it. Yixing looks tired, maybe more tired than Kyungsoo ever recalls seeing him, but his hair is escaping his ponytail to fall gently all around his face, and Kyungsoo thinks looks so beautiful.  
  
“I—” he says, and he wants to be honest, so he settles for something true. “I didn’t want you to worry.”  
  
“Better than you doing it on your own,” Yixing says, like it could be enough of an answer to stop the way Kyungsoo’s mind can’t ever seem to stop racing. He squeezes Kyungsoo’s thigh, and Kyungsoo tries not to fidget. “Tell me, next time.”  
  
“Okay,” Kyungsoo says, and he’ll try, just because it’s Yixing asking.  
  
“Mmm,” Yixing hums. He releases Kyungsoo’s wrist and brings his hand up to Kyungsoo’s face instead, running his thumb along his jawline before he leaves it to rest, cupping his cheek. “Still worrying?”  
  
“Huh?” Kyungsoo says. Yixing’s hand is steady, like an anchor, and Kyungsoo can’t tear his eyes away from his mouth. He can still smell the mint shampoo, lingering.  
  
“Good.” Yixing’s other hand shifts farther up Kyungsoo’s thigh, and Kyungsoo makes a tiny noise in the back of his throat that has Yixing biting back a smile as he leans in closer. “I think you could use a distraction,” he says.  
  
The rest of their tea is going to go cold, but Yixing tastes just like it and a little like home, and Kyungsoo finds that he likes this better, anyway.  
  
---


End file.
